Never Too Late
by RoraShigoto
Summary: I loved watching him crumble. .:Zexion.Demyx:. /for 6-The-Cloaked-Nocturne-9/


**Never Too Late**

_**I loved watching him crumble.**_

**(for 6-The-Cloaked-Nocturne-9)**

Zexion was the kid everyone knew as he saddest case of all time. Yeah, his mom mentally and physically abused and his dad raped him. Then he killed his mom on 'accident', which led to his father committing suicide. And he watched it all. The police found him with blood covering his torso and half of his pants. He was crying in his room, his knees pulled closely up to his chest. Everyone in town knew the story. He was only five.

They put him in foster homes then. He moved around from place to place and finally someone adopted him. And he liked the people, apparently. They were, in fact, my neighbors.

I had the perfect veiw outside of my window. It saw straight into his. And although he had his curtains closed most of the time, at night he opened them. I could see him in his room, committing sins of the flesh and blasting loud music so no one could hear him crying. I saw his true smile. The smile he always held onto while blood poured from hi wounds. It was the only time he would smile like that. A satisfied smile. He was only eleven.

I knew his darkest secrets in a month of him living there. Although I had never spoken to him. Self-mutilation was only the beginning. He attempted suicide in a variety of ways. Hanging himself, but it didn't work because the rope always tore down. Cutting so much that he would pass out, but it was a failure because as soon as he did, the blood got clogged and he wouldn't bleed anymore. Suffocation, but his mother walked in and thought he was just tired and was resting his head in the pillow. He tried jumping out of his bedroom window, but bushes broke his fall. He had scars from that and he said he fell whilst trying to save a cat from our tree that hung near his bedroom.

I knew it all. One day, my parents told me to go over and greet the new little boy. So, naturally, I went outside, ready to meet the kid who I loved to watch suffer and live in despair and sorrow.

I rang the doorbell, and his mother answered. She was nice enough, but completely oblivious. She went to get him and as he bounded downstairs with a frown, she practically pushed him out the door. I could almost hear her thoughts, Go outside and make friends and live a happy, normal childhood life!

We walked to the park in silence. Just an unspoken mutual agreement said we should go to the park together. We sat on the swings, not swinging. The sky was grey, resulting in the park being empty. I liked it better that way. I listened to the sounds of basic silence. Until he said, "I know you watch me, you know."

"What?"

"I know. You sit and watch me every night. Just before you go to sleep. You like it don't you, you sadistic little bitch?" he asked furiously. "You probably enjoy watching me wallow in self-pity and all that bullshit. You have a smile on your face every time I taint my arm once more with scars and cuts."

To be perfectly honest, I did.

"Yeah. It's true," I told him bluntly. "I hate the way everyone has pity for you. I really do. I hate that you get all this attention just because you had a fucked up family."

There was a long pause. It didn't feel awkward, just understandable.

"...me too."

We walked back home then, quietly mumbling complaints and things of the sort. Once we got to the dividing line of our houses, I said good bye and he... he did the unexpected. He leaned up to me and planted a kiss in my lips. He hastily departed back to his house. I retreated to mine as well.

That night, at the usual time, Zexion opened his curtains. This time, I wasn't trying to hid myself from his view. He waved at my, a light smile on his face. He was only eleven; I was fourteen.

Two years after that, Zexion held a birthday party in his huge backyard. I was the only one he invited, but a number of kids from his school showed up, most likely thanks to his parents.

By this time, his parents knew about 'us.' Us; meaning we would sometimes just go up to his room, play video games, and make out. A wonderful relationship. But we both knew it was nothing like love. Just an agreeable understanding of each other. His parents never liked me. I knew that. Why should they? I have corrupted their oh-so young, innocent child with my teenage problems and peer pressure! Snort. Please.

His birthday party was fun, colorful, and full of laughing children and games. So, what did Zexion and I do? Sat in a corner sulking, of course. He read aloud to me, a book which I had already read many times before. It was fun just to listen to his voice while he read, though. We sat in the shade, almost blinded because of the sun. His mother would send death glares at us an awful lot. But every time she did, I would only puff my cigarette at her or flip ashes in her garden, just to see her face fume red with anger. Oh, what fun.

"Okay, okay," I said to Zexion as he finished off the current chapter. "Hold up."

"What?" he asked, seeming a little pissed. How I loved when he got like that.

"I've got to piss, calm down!" I told him, laughing. I handed him my cigarette saying, "Don't let your mom catch you smoking, remember. Just look like your holding it for me... since you are."

Yeah, I didn't care if he smoked, but I'd never see him again if his mom found out. I walked inside and went to his upstairs bathroom.

It wasn't too long before I joined him back in the shade. He was still reading and my cigarette was put out in the soil. "Jesus, kid, there was half of that left over."

That earned a punch from him. "Don't call me that!"

"Just keep reading," I commanded him, lighting another smoke.

After the party, we basically sulked up to Zexion's room, locking the door behind us. The birthday boy plopped down on his bed expectantly. I walked around his room some, pretending to be interested in one of his birthday presents. "Demyx!" I laughed at his cry. Walking over to the bed, I crawled on top of him. Our noses touched. I kissed his lips deeply, then pulled back.

"One," another kiss, "two," another, "three," again, "four..." It kept going up to thirteen, when he finally just pulled me down and probed my mouth with his tongue. I pushed back with my tongue and we soon got lost in each other.

I pulled back for air and smirked down at him, forcing him to turn his head to the right so I could nibble and nip at hit exposed skin. Other bite marks were still remaining from two days before, and I bit down on those two. He never resisted, the pervert. He enjoyed the pain and sensation of it all.

I tugged at the bottom of his shirt and it was soon torn off and thrown to the other side of the room, leaving his exposed chest. We never went further than this. Our shirts would come off, but nothing else. Today, however, as I went up to kiss him again, he whispered, "Demyx... please."

I knew what he wanted. And who was I to deny? But I did. An impulse told me to shake my head at his request. He was, after all, underage. I could be sent away for pedophilia. "Yes. Now!" he demanded. I gave him a hard, strong look, which he returned with and icy stare.

After two minutes of arguing, I finally decided to give him what he wanted. I unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down, his boxers coming with them. I tossed the clothing items onto the ground. I bent over to leave small steady kisses on his abdomen and chest. I trailed down further and further, but he stopped me. "Wait." I did. He stretched his arm over to his nightstand, picking up a remote. He clicked the power button and turned his stereo on, turning the volume up all the way. It didn't disturb me any.

I went back to my job, licking at his flesh tastefully. His hands continuously ran clutched at my hair as I made my way down to his pulsing erection.

It got even more heated from there.

He was only thirteen; I was sixteen.

Three years this time. I was ready to leave home. I was ready to get away from the arguing parents and the now totally flipped, fucked up household. from everyone in the neighborhood talking about us. I was satisfied now. I had attention drawn to me, instead of him. I was happy about that. No longer was it all pity for the small, petrified, tormented and abused kid. It was me this time. And I had had my taste of it. I was ready to move on.

As I had pulled my two cases outside on my porch, I noticed him sitting there. His face looked like it did when he was eleven. He was again wallowing in self-pity.

I suppose I could understand why he would miss me. After all, he didn't have anyone else. Ever since his thirteenth birthday, things were like that. Heated and pulsing. Sex and more sex. That's it. I'm not even sure if there was love or not there anymore. Perhaps, seeming as we only stayed close by. Rarely were we apart. It was either my house or yours?

So I could almost imagine his pain then.

We hugged, kissed, cried, and parted ways.

He was only fifteen...

Two months later I got a call form my next door neighbor. She said to come home as soon as I could.

I was there the next day. I should have seen it coming, really. I could even imagine the scene. I had given him a key to my house. He went to my bathroom, filled the tub with water and got in, pants and socks on. He took a razor blade from his old stash and scared himself even more. On his chest, he carved a heart to the right side. The blood had filled the tub, making the water a deathly red. Then, he slipped under the water, not ever coming back up.

How sweet. He misses me.

_He was only fifteen..._

**This is for my faithful reader, 6-The-Cloaked-Nocturne-9, who requested a Zemyx oneshot. So sorry it's a 'sad' one again. Maybe one day I'll write an actual fluff and give it to you! I don't know why you always get the sad ones. If you don't like it, just tell me, I'll write you a new one.  
And oh my gosh! I am ever so so so sososososo sorry for how long it took1 It's ridiculous that it took this long! Please forgive me! Oh man...! I stayed up all night for this. I started to write a different one, but it just didn't flow right, so this came out. And sorry it's so short too. DX**

Um, if FallenPooka reads this: Your oneshot WILL be posted on the ninth (Monday). I promise.

Now, to everyone else. I hope you enjoyed it...!

**Much respect, much love. Goodbye!**


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